


Let Him In

by Julversia



Category: Lee Pace - Fandom, Richard Armitage - Fandom, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, I can't do one without the other, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julversia/pseuds/Julversia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lee made a mistake. Richard did, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Him In

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own no one, only hope that if they are together, they can make it work, because I love them both apart and together. Unbeta'ed, any and all mistakes are what I own.
> 
>  

The soft click of the door as Lee closed it snapped Richard back to reality. He blinked in the trailer's dim light. What just happened?

His head floated off his shoulders for a second. His stomach clenched, nearly doubling him over. He felt the same way he had just before bolting for the nearest bucket to lose his lunch about a month ago. Jelly knees, wobbly, unfocused, with a sick sense of _what the fuck?_ A deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, slow and easy, brought his head back to his neck and eased the wormy feeling in his belly.

Did Lee just bin him? Had he agreed to that? No no no no. He couldn't have done. But Lee was gone, walked out and shut the door behind him. With a free evening ahead for both of them. They spent those together, had since that only marginally awkward first date. Yet here Richard stood, alone.

The big muscles in his arms and legs twitched with the urge to rip the trailer door open, to run after Lee, in whichever direction he'd gone. _Can't do that. Not yet._ Richard clamped down his will. _Not until I figure out what the hell happened here._

Another deep breath, and yet another to focus. With slow, calculated steps, he moved to the sofa. He wanted to sit gracefully, but flopped down, a marionette with cut strings. He slumped back into the cushions, head tilted to the ceiling as he played the last twenty minutes back in his mind.

Lee hadn't looked at him at first. Richard recalled wondering if something had happened at home, with Lee's family, and that was why he seemed so out of sorts.

“Lee, everything okay?”

He'd nodded, then heaved in a harsh breath. His head had come up, and he looked Richard straight in the eye.

“I think we should stop.”

God, it was so crystal clear! Richard could pick out every little fidgety move Lee had made, the tiny twitch at the corner of his right eye as he ended things between them.

“This was good, Rich, don't ever think otherwise,” Lee said, his voice firm, yet soft, a bit faint. “But I'm leaving day after tomorrow, and I just think...” Centuries passed in that pause. “...I think we, us, should just be here, part of all the rest of the magic of this place and this job.”

He'd begun to pace then, eating up the small space of the trailer with his long legs. His arms had been pinned to his sides, fists tight. 

“It wouldn't work, anyway. I've got a lot of things going on, on the other side of the world, you're still here for months yet. I can't see making that work.” He'd stopped, right in front of Richard. His hand had gone to the back of his neck, rubbing and squeezing as if to ease tension, but he didn't look away.

“I'm not good at long-distance. So, I think we should stop here.”

Richard remembered feeling numb. He must have been breathing, as he hadn't ended up on the floor, but he felt nothing. He saw the determination in Lee's eyes, though. The belief that he was doing the right thing, that it would be better this way.

And like an idiot, Richard had found himself agreeing. Despite the cold numbness, he understood what Lee was saying; a part of him believed it, too. He'd been there. Relationships died quiet, neglected deaths for people like them. Distance, not enough time together, too much attention paid elsewhere. Love faded, and sometimes when you came home to another person, they didn't recognize you, or you didn't recognize them any more. Whatever had been between you just slipped away in the space of miles, of hours away from each other.

Richard never wanted this bright, shining, brilliant thing between them to fade that way. He didn't want it to lose its luster, never wanted to look at Lee and see a stranger. So he'd agreed.

Lee had sighed, and nodded. He'd turned away. His shoulders were straight as he walked out the door.

This was what Richard remembered. He knew it was right by the hollow feeling in his chest. Deep breath, in and out slowly. It didn't work this time. His hands began to shake, a painful tremor that worked its way up his arms and throughout the rest of his big body like wildfire. His eyes squeezed shut and a small moan escaped him. He needed to move, to do something, or this pain would break him apart.

But he couldn't go chasing after Lee now. The part of him that had agreed and the hurt that shook him now wouldn't let him. Still, he had to make sense of this somehow, what he should do now. He didn't trust his own instincts at the moment, he was too scattered. He needed to talk to someone, get some advice, and in a flash, he knew exactly where to go.

 

Now, some four hours later, he parked the car he'd borrowed in the fleet lot and made his way back to his trailer. He was tired, so tired he ached, but he felt a little better. Talking to Ian had helped. The older man had put it into simple perspective: “Do you want to be with him?” Richard said yes. In spite of how his heart hurt, how empty he felt inside. “Then remind him he wants to be with you. Miles and minutes mean nothing in the face of strong will, my boy.” 

Richard had spent the drive back to his trailer thinking of how to accomplish this. Plan after plan was hatched, then discarded. He couldn't beg, that would be pathetic. He had to find a way to do as Ian said, convince Lee they should be together, and that they could make it work. 

He was again running over what he might say, muttering to himself as he trudged across the lot. His mouth snapped shut and his feet stopped when he looked up and saw the step of his trailer.

“How long have you been here?” he blurted out.

Lee rose, unfolding his long legs and straightening to his full height. “Since about an hour after I left.” His voice was low. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I kinda thought I'd be out here all night.” He offered a little half smile.

“You nearly were,” Richard said as he dug in his own pockets for his key. “But I decided it would be a bad idea for me to stay out all night. I have to work tomorrow.” Let Lee take that as he would. A tiny sliver of hurt still smouldered in Richard's chest, and it flared a little seeing Lee lounging at his front door, looking completely at ease.

“Oh. Well, maybe I should just let you go to bed, then.” A quick glance showed Richard the misery on Lee's face. He sighed.

“What did you want, Lee?”

Lee ducked his head, looked down at the black asphalt under his trainers. “To talk.”

“I would have thought you said everything you wanted to say.” The second the words were out, Richard regretted them. He didn't want bad feelings between them. Lee had only been doing what he thought best at the time. And Richard didn't believe he'd have sat here waiting for over three hours if he just wanted to twist the knife in a bit more.

He turned away and shoved his key into the lock. “Best you come in, then.”

Once they were inside, Richard did the polite thing, offering Lee a seat, asking if he wanted anything. He was stalling a bit, and he knew it. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Lee had to say. If it was anything like this afternoon, he might shame himself completely by crying this time.

Lee took a spot on the sofa, declining the other offer. He sat stiff, his back straight, feet planted on the floor, waiting. Another prickle of hurt touched Richard, for Lee this time. Lee looked almost fragile, holding himself so carefully, and it didn't suit him. He was more indolent, stretching out and making himself comfortable.

Richard puttered about for another minute, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge and downing a long swallow before making his way to the sofa. He tucked a leg under him as he sat, plenty of space between them, thinking if he looked comfortable, Lee might relax a little. Long moments of silence spun out as they only looked at each other, Lee chewing his bottom lip, Richard trying not to smile at that, the gesture was very Lee, and to mask his hurt at the same time. The effort made his jaw ache.

Finally the quiet proved to be too much. “I'm sorry, Richard,” Lee burst out. The rest came in a flood. “I never meant to hurt you, if I did, really, I can't tell because you're so damn close about everything, but I thought I was-I thought it was right, but it isn't, and I hate it, and I hate me, and I hate you a little, too. I just-shit.” Lee's gaze dropped to his hands.

“You hate me?” 

“You agreed to it. You had to know I'm a fucking moron, that I didn't want-I don't want to-” Lee shot up from the sofa. “Goddammit.” He stepped in front of Richard, who tilted his head to gain eye contact. He needed to see Lee's eyes, to see the truth there. What he saw matched Lee's words. Lee dropped to his knees in front of him.

“This afternoon never should have happened, Rich. I got scared, I didn't think I could do it, to consciously be with you and be away from you. I couldn't take how much I would miss you. Miss everything about you.” The words barreled out of Lee, rushed together, but Richard caught every one. 

“Lee-”

Lee shook his head. “You don't have to forgive me, I know I don't deserve that. I just needed you to know that I was wrong, and I'm sorry. So sorry I hurt you.”

All the hurt, the disappointment, the emptiness Richard had felt at the thought of Lee being out of his life for good melted away. He swallowed hard. Warmth tingled in his toes, and swept up, loosening every muscle until he felt almost boneless with relief. His eyes slid shut. He breathed deep and smelled Lee, that clean smell he always had at the beginning of the day. Sunshine and green grass. He smelled like that now. The warmth became heat.

He opened his eyes to see Lee still staring at him, the line between his eyebrows deep and his eyes dark with worry. Richard reached out to cup Lee's cheek. Lee blew out a harsh breath and pressed his cheek into Richard's hand.

“I'm sorry, too,” Richard said as he leaned forward. His hand slid around to the back of Lee's neck. “We'll make it work.”

“Yes,” Lee whispered, just before Richard pulled him in to meet his mouth.

They barely made it to the bedroom. Clothes were fumbled off, shoes flew. Richard couldn't be sure where his jeans had even landed. None of it mattered. Lee was here, in his arms, in his bed, exactly where he wanted him to be.

He spent the next hours touching, kissing, licking, sliding his hands and body over Lee's perfection. He reveled in Lee's soft skin, the sounds he made, the stutters in his breathing. He discovered three new ticklish spots, and a good dozen other places that had Lee groaning and panting, gritting out Richard's name through clenched teeth. 

He took Lee to the edge several times and backed off again, wanting to prolong the pleasure for him, to make it last as long as possible. When Lee began to beg, the prideful part of Richard purred. When Lee began to curse him, Richard realized he might be taking it a little too far, might be pushing too hard. He eased off a little, then gave Lee what he wanted, what they both wanted.

Richard watched as Lee came undone, and followed seconds after, mind gone blank, body rigid and liquid at the same time. He left Lee slowly, as gently as possible, but Lee didn't notice, even though he always hated that part, the moment their connection was broken. Richard attended to one of the niceties by pulling Lee's legs straight from the beautiful sprawl he'd ended up in before collapsing next to him. 

He pressed close, soaking in Lee's heat, inhaling Lee's scent, feeling Lee's pulse pound against his lips. _This,_ Richard thought, with all of those things washing over him, sinking into him, filling him up, _this matters. We'll work the rest out. Whatever it takes. I don't want to lose him, ever again._

“I'm glad you came back.”


End file.
